Shadows
by Kmye
Summary: Because of a single word, Aoshi is losing Misao and helplessly seing her disappear in the shadows... *COMPLETE* Ending : just a short last part... Aoshi's trying to make up for all the harm he did and expresses his inner thoughts about Misao. Please R&R !
1. Default Chapter

Shadows  
  
……  
  
Chapter 1 : Teasing voices  
  
……  
  
Misao opened her eyes, gazing at the ceiling above her head, and sleepily waking from the anguish of an hazy dream.  
  
What time… ? How long have I been sleeping ?  
  
The night was black, the darkness thick and threatening.  
  
She sat up in the middle of a mess of rumpled blankets. Quick and jerky, her breathing hurt, and sweat was rolling on her forehead. Wholly awaken now, she peered into the shadows dancing in her room and through her mind.  
  
A nightmare… Another one.  
  
Sighing slightly, she relaxed and streched out. Her eyes closed, as her mind was running to find an explanation to those nightmares purchasing her during so many nights.  
  
That's useless… I can't even remember what I've dreamed of.  
  
She sighed in exasperation. She hated waking up in the middle of the night, because her thoughts inexorably turned to a single topic, that tormented her as much as it excluded any sleep during long, long hours.  
  
No, no, no. I don't want to think about him. I won't be able to fall asleep otherwise.  
  
She blushed, wondering if Aoshi was asleep, on the other side of the slim shoji that stood between their rooms.  
  
Would be nice to see him sleeping… I guess he might look more, much more relaxed… So far away from his cold, distant behavior…  
  
A long, silky lock of black hair fell on her shoulder, softly brushing her cheek. She wound it around her finger, her fears and nightmares totally forgotten. She felt a bit nervous at the thought Aoshi was only a few steps away from her, although she had never realized it before.  
  
The moonlight was throwing shadows of branches on the shoji : Misao's well- trained vision could even distinguish the delicate forms of leaves and flowers, blooming on the old, beautiful cherry tree of Okina's garden. Had she hold out a hand, maybe would she have been able to gather one of them…  
  
It reminded Misao of the shadow show she had seen when she was very young. She remembered the cheerful, old man who played with his hand-made puppets, behind a hung fabric… her own joy, her enthusiasm at the sight of the shadows dancing in the darkness, like butterflies hanging in the air… Her heart felt suddenly heavy in her chest. Where had gone the radiant little girl she was when she was five years old ? An odd sensation of melancholy overwhelmed her…  
  
When did I spend those twelve years of my life ?  
  
She could remember her childhood, a wonderful awakening to life, under the kindly, tender watch of Aoshi, Hannya and Okina.  
  
She could remember her adolescence, facing her first disillusions and failures, but always willing to go further, to become stronger, and openly claming her love for Aoshi-sama, with no hint of shame…  
  
And then ?  
  
And then had come the times of sadness, of unspoken fears, of hidden pains she tried to keep burried in the back of her heart ; the time of trusting and being betrayed, the time of feeling lonely… If it was what growing was, what being an adult was, she didn't want it.  
  
I made myself Okashira in order to check the fall of the Oniwabanshuu… I wanted to show to Aoshi-sama that I was strong too, that I could succeed where he had failed… But I'm drowning now, and there's noone to catch me…  
  
Tears filled her eyes, and she wipped them quickly, feeling a bit guilty of mourning whereas her pain was not such a hard struggle.  
  
Do I ask him too much ? He used to comfort me when I was a little girl… Why can't he comfort me now ? What changed between you and me, Aoshi-sama ? You used to care about me, remember…  
  
She shook her head with both anger and frustration. An idea had popped in her head, like a little voice turning in her mind and teasing her to death.  
  
He's angry with you. And he is right ! Don't you see what I mean, Misao- chan ? Remember… you stole his tittle, proclaming yourself Okashira without asking their advices to the others… You stole his tittle, telling you were the Okashira and he was not anymore, and it was just as if you had told Hannya, Beshimi, Shikijou and Hyottoko had sacrificed their lifes for a loser, a man who was not able to lead the Oniwabanshuu !  
  
She grited her teeth, hard.  
  
That's wrong. That can't be. I didn't steal the tittle.  
  
But so… Why did you want to show him you were better than him ? You just wanted to satisfy your own pride and your egoism !  
  
1.1 No ! No ! That's wrong… I've never mind…  
  
1.2  
  
1.3 She suddenly felt guilty, terribly sad and lost. Maybe it was right, after all. It would be an explanation to Aoshi's cold behavior towards her. But she really didn't mind to steal his tittle or anything else that could make him pain…  
  
She silently stood up, her mind so confused that she barely could noticed what she did.  
  
Before she could only have realized it, her hand streched out toward the shoji. Her fingers hit the wood and paper-made door, which slid in a soft rustling.  
  
Aoshi's room was filled with darkness and shade, but Misao's eyes were now used to peering into shadows.  
  
What the hell am I doing ? What do I think I want to do by going in his room at such an hour of the night ? Apologize ?  
  
The muscles of her face tightened as her eyes narrowed. It was too late to retract, now she had to assume.  
  
All was quiet in the room. The wind blowed on the roof, covering the sound of her steps. She thought she could simply go back to her room, but the temptation was too strong.  
  
She wanted to see him.  
  
She wanted to see him asleep, his features relaxed, his silky, blue-shaded hair loosely brushing his forehead…  
  
She moved forward, and frowned.  
  
The futon was empty, the blanket neatly folded on it.  
  
Misao relaxed a bit, sighing in relief. She let out a long expiration, unaware she had caught her breath during several seconds. She realized that her neck was painful, when the tension she had amassed broke down.  
  
"Is it something wrong, Misao ?", a calm voice said.  
  
Misao nearly jumped out of her skin.  
  
Her eyes flashed, discovering two icy, piercing eyes staring at her from a shadowed corner.  
  
He was here ! He was here all the time, and I didn't even notice his presence ! Misao no baka !  
  
Her voice shaked, as she tried to recover her componure.  
  
"Iie… Nothing at all… All's right… I just…huh… I…"  
  
Aoshi stood up from his seiza position.  
  
Misao was obviously troubling him during a nocturnal meditation, and she felt terribly out of place.  
  
He moved forward, his face unreadable at all, not even revealing a hint of anger.  
  
"Are you sure ?"  
  
Misao nodded affirmatively, trying hard to look persuasive and calm, even through she clenched her fists harshly so as not to tremble.  
  
Aoshi's voice was cool, but… wasn't it something else ? Did he just want to seem concerned with her, or… did he really care ?  
  
"Hai, hai. I mean… I thought I heard a strange noise…"  
  
Makimachi Misao, you're making a fool of yourself !  
  
Aoshi raised an eyebrow.  
  
Misao jumped a few steps further. Why in the hell did she felt so nervous ? She was used to his presence, dammit ! Her imagination was betraying her again.  
  
She swallowed with difficulty, understanding her lie had no impact on Aoshi.  
  
You idiot, he knows you better than you would ever do…  
  
But Aoshi spoke again, and his voice seemed oddly embarassed.  
  
"I heard you crying a short while ago."  
  
Misao's expression turned into stupefaction.  
  
"I… cried ?"  
  
A hint of surprise passed through Aoshi's eyes, although nobody instead of Misao would have noticed it.  
  
"Didn't you ?"  
  
Misao suddenly remembered of her nightmare, of her pain and sadness when she woke up. An image popped in her mind, and in the meanwhile tears filled her eyes. She saw Aoshi, his kodachi streaming with blood, glaring at her… with a hatred she couldn't endure…  
  
I don't want to see your face anymore.  
  
"Misao ! Misao !"  
  
Her eyes abruptly opened. She was in Aoshi's room again, fighting the tears that ran on her cheeks. Her gaze met his, and her heart wrenched as she caught his concerned, sorry look.  
  
"Misao, what happened ? Tell me, please…"  
  
She wanted to cry, to throw her arms around his neck, she wanted to tell him why she felt so lonely, and she wanted him to comfort her…  
  
But how can I tell you how badly you hurt me ? I know you sincerely regret it. I know you don't feel at ease, and I don't want you to think I try to push you away… You're trying so hard to repair…  
  
"I had a nightmare tonight. I can't remember what it was about. But it was a sad, terribly sad dream…"  
  
Aoshi seemed to relax a little.  
  
He opened the window, and sat on the edge. His look turned toward the stars and the deep blue sky, and he smelled the fresh scent of the night. The wind rushed into the room, brushing against Misao's skin. She shuddered.  
  
"Nightmares show your fears, and the torments that hurt your mind. Something that is bothering you, but that you can't share with anybody. I used to have a lot of nightmares, when I… and I still have, anyway."  
  
His voice was low, deep.  
  
Misao's eyes grew bigger. Confessions were not the forte of Aoshi ; but something seemed to hang in the air between them, like a thin, fragile link which would bring them closer for an ephemeral moment.  
  
What if I tell him now how I feel about him ?  
  
She pushed back the idea. She had something else to ask, something she had never found the courage to speak about.  
  
"Please tell me, Aoshi-sama. Tell me what happened with Himura, and what you're dreaming about…"  
  
…………….  
  
Aoshi gazed at the graceful, little silhouette, that popped in in his room just as to melt away his doubts and fears. She was there, sitting on his bed, her chin resting on her knees… somehow fragile, somehow strong… And he couldn't help feeling lost, when he caught the sad, hurt look in her eyes. Something she was carrying in her, and that started to kill her silently, desperatly, inexorably…  
  
And they were here, just talking, just like friends. He wasn't her friend. Friends can share everything, can't they ? He didn't want to worry her with the darkness of his mind. She could keep the beautiful image she had made of him, a mix of dreams and memories, so far away from what he really was… Or he wanted her to do so, anyway. And now, they were talking, sharing something, so tiny it could be…  
  
It was surrealist. The moment was, and his mixed feelings were, too.  
  
And he desperatly wanted to keep that moment untouched. Just for her and him. No word. No move. Just her little form wrapped in the darkness. His darkness.  
  
During a short while, he thought he could lighten up a candle. But he was the moon, if she was the sun. He was darkness, and she was light. No way they could meet, they could share, they could lo--…  
  
And suddenly, the words he didn't want to hear. The words that broke the beauty, and sent him back to his loneliness.  
  
"Please tell me, Aoshi-sama. Tell me what happened with Himura, and what you're dreaming of…"  
  
She can't understand. She never has.  
  
……………  
  
Misao saw Aoshi stiffen. She closed her eyes, her heart painfully pounding, her eyes moistening.  
  
She had seen the cold anger on his face. Anger with her, or annoyance, that didn't matter.  
  
But what else could she have said ?  
  
She didn't want Aoshi to keep himself locked with ghosts of his past, she didn't want his inner devils to consume him with grief. She could help him ! She knew she was strong enough, she could understand… She didn't want to judge him, but to help…  
  
And the teasing voices in her head… What did you think ? You thought he was glad to talk with you ? You thought he enjoyed your compagny ?  
  
Yes, I did. I was wrong.  
  
Aoshi didn't say a single word. Misao understood the conversation was over. She stood up, trying hard to conceal the sadness in her eyes, and in the meanwhile hopping he would see her loneliness, and ask her something, anything… Ask if everything was all right, wish her a good night, or even… Ask her to stay…  
  
But no word was pronounced. There was no word to say.  
  
She slightly bent over, her fists clenched in the creases of her rumpled yukata.  
  
"Oyasumi nasai, Aoshi-sama." Her voice was trembling, souding unsure.  
  
No answer. She glanced at him worringly. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed far away, somewhere in the shade, like a cold mask covering a suffering soul.  
  
She had never seen him so distant, as if his mind was wandering in some invisible landscape, some dream she couldn't even guess in the emptiness of his eyes.  
  
Slowly, she took a step towards the door. And another. And now another.  
  
She turned back, and the shoji slid close silently. 


	2. Chapter 2

Shadows  
  
………..  
  
Chapter 2 : Left behind  
  
………..  
  
The mist of a new daybreak tinted the landscape with grey and white, then the sun tried to pierce the cloudy sky with his pale fingers. Long sharves of pinkish clouds frayed through the violet and pale red sky, and the last stars passed away, like lost night-birds.  
  
But Aoshi didn't pay attention to the beauty of the dawn. He was still sitting on the edge of the window, a cold and lifeless statue out of place in that turmoil of bright colors. Out of place everywhere, anyway.  
  
He hadn't slept. His conversation, or outline of conversation with Misao had preoccupied him to a point he hadn't be able to imagine.  
  
She was sad, sad because of him, he knew that. He wanted to preserve her peace and quietness, he knew that too. He had always wanted it. And maybe it was because he had always wanted this, that he was clinging to that decision. He didn't want anything to change : he had lost so much of his former marks, that he wasn't able to face other changes.  
  
As long as she would be a child, he could have the hope he could stay the young man he was before he committed his horrible murders.  
  
As long as she would be a child, he wouldn't have to face the reality.  
  
As long as she would be a child, he wouldn't have to aknowledge his own defeat, and he wouldn't have to bear the long agony of his mind, consumed by deep griefs.  
  
Keeping her away from growing was his way of turning back time.  
  
But, if she was still calling him 'Aoshi-sama' with the same adoration as she used to, he saw the changes in her. Her look was deepier, more serious. She was growing after all. And this was the only thing he didn't want to happen.  
  
Aoshi was not aware of it, but he was trying desperatly to convince himself that Misao was still a child, not a woman who needed his love, but forever a child who needed his care. Whatever she could do, whatever she could say, would not weaken that conviction.  
  
As long as he only could, he wouldn't allow her to break the so fragile walls he was building around him.  
  
He had made his decisions. Things would remain just as they were. And so he could forget his painful guilt for hurting so badly the Oniwabanshuu, and hurting Misao so deeply.  
  
……….  
  
Misao woke up with the sun, as she usually did. The sunshine was warming her face, and a devilish grin found its way to her lips. There was no noise through the whole Aioya. She enjoyed that hour, when she could rest here, in peace.  
  
But peace was not in her nature, and she couldn't stand staying here for long. She jumped on her feet, smiling. This was a new day. She was feeling good. Not even her talk with Aoshi the day before would make her change her mood.  
  
She sneaked through the corridor, grinning at the idea the others would be surprized if she prepared the breakfast for everyone today. Usually, Okon or Omasu took care of the cooking, but today, she felt in the mood for helping in the kitchen instead of training or so.  
  
She pushed the door of the kitchen, expecting to find it empty.  
  
"Ohayou, Misao-chan, you're awake ?"  
  
Omasu was already there.  
  
"Hai", Misao grinned.  
  
She saw Okon too.  
  
"Oh Okon, you're back ? I was missing y…"  
  
But the words died on her lips. The older woman sat on a chair, bruises on her cheeks and hands, and a large bandage covering her head and part of her eye.  
  
"Okon, what happened ?!"  
  
Okon smiled with a reassuring glance.  
  
"A-hem, I think I overrated my own strengh ! I was coming back from Tokyo with the informations I had to find there, but the guys of the Yaminobu caught me on the road. Apparently, they're looking for Yoshida too. They wanted me to give them the informations, and I resisted. So, hmmm… They became a bit violent !"  
  
Misao's eyes flashed with anger.  
  
"Yaminobu ninjas ? Yaminobu jerks, yeah ! Yoshida is OUR target !! WHO in the hell do they think they are ?! I'm going to… to… I'm going to show them why Oniwabanshuu is said to be the strongest ninja's corporation !! Did they wound you ?"  
  
"Iie, Misao-chan… They let go, but they gave me something for you."  
  
She rummaged in a secret pocket in the sleeve of her kimono, and her fingers caught a sheet of paper that she held out to Misao.  
  
The young okashira took the letter, opened it and read. Her face turned to violent fury, with a hint of pride that made Omasu smile.  
  
"How dare they ?! How dare they suppose that the Oniwabanshuu are so… so lacking in honor that they would become allies with those… those so-called ninjas dealing with the yakuza ?!"  
  
Misao crumpled the letter and threw it towards the dustbin.  
  
"I'M gonna go to have a little conversation with their damn leader !! And I'll show him what means Makimachi Misao's anger !!"  
  
She was turning to leave, when Okina came in the kitchen.  
  
"Ohayou, youngsters… Misao-chan, where are you going so early ?"  
  
Misao frowned with a tragic expression of hurt pride on her face. Omasu giggled, although the honor of the Oniwabanshuu was no topic for laughing. The young woman picked up the rumpled letter that had rolled on the ground, and held it to Okina.  
  
"Arigato Omasu…", he said when sitting at the table. "Now let's see…"  
  
He read, and he frowned with concern, understanding what Misao's intentions were.  
  
"So you're going to make up for the insult ?"  
  
Misao tried her best to look calm and posed.  
  
"Of course ! I can't let them suppose such a depravity in the Oniwabanshuu !"  
  
Okina glanced at her, straight in the eyes. And suddenly, she realized how old, how tired he looked. And in a way, it made her feel both sad and proud. She was not a child anymore. She was the one who lead the Oniwabanshuu, a woman, now… But she couldn't count on him anymore, too. He was tired of being Okina the ninja, Okina the surrogate grandfather who cared about her so much. Not that he didn't love her anymore ; but she had now to make her own life. Open up her own way.  
  
She sighed.  
  
"I'm going now.", she said.  
  
"I'll come with you, if you don't mind", a cold, low voice said from a shady corner of the room.  
  
Aoshi. She sighed once more. His behavior was exasperant to her spured sensitivity. Why didn't he even point out his presence to the other ones ? And, first of all, why did he always look at her like at a child that needed his constant protection ?  
  
Misao sniffled, turning her cold anger against Aoshi.  
  
"No thanks, I'll do it on my own."  
  
Aoshi's face didn't betray a hint of surprize, but Misao felt him stiffen.  
  
"Ah-ah. I have to do in the downtown, that's why I proposed to come with you there. But if you want to walk on your own, that doesn't matter."  
  
Misao's frustration weakened. She was stupid after all. He hadn't proposed his protection but his compagny, and she was reacting with misplaced pride that may hurt him more than bring them together.  
  
"Oh, ok. I'll be pleased to walk along with you."  
  
Aoshi bowed slightly.  
  
"Would you mind if we're going now ?"  
  
"That would be perfect."  
  
Their uneasy and overpolite conversation felt disagreeable to Misao. She wanted to go now, to escape to the cold tensed atmosphere of the dining room.  
  
She ran trough the door, looking more perturbed than angry. Strange thoughts were assailing her of her conversation with Aoshi the night before. Thoughts of the way he had shown her he didn't want her to stay. Thoughts of the teasing voices in her head.  
  
She would take advantage of their walk to talk with Aoshi. And no way one of them was going to slip away this time. She had made her decision, and nobody could make her change her mind.  
  
…………….  
  
The only word Misao could have used to describe the atmosphere was : tensed. Ever since they had left the Aioya, Aoshi hadn't even unclenched his teeth. Added to her anger against the Yaminobu jerks, that made her felt in utter rage.  
  
The soft sun of the dawn had been quickly covered by a dark, stormy amount of clouds, and the warm air was charged with electricity. It was unusually hot for a spring day, and the moist warmth announced the scorching heats of the next summer.  
  
As always, she was the one who babbled to prevent a heavy silence from taking a firm hold. And that damned Aoshi-sama who didn't even answer ! For making things difficult to her, he was easily the best. She didn't know how to tackle the topic.  
  
Didn't he see how embarrassed she was ? He could give her a hand, damnit !  
  
And she was babbling, and babbling, and giggling, and babbling, doing everything she could in order to hide her discomfort.  
  
She let a fleeting sunshine warm her face a moment, and took a long inspiration. The earlier she would have told it, the faster the problem would be solved. And then they could have a new start.  
  
"Aoshi-sama…"  
  
Damn. What had she planed to say ? Everything forgotten. Find an idea, quick. Tell something. Anything.  
  
"Aoshi-sama, you know… I've… I've worked hard, and I've tried my best to become a good okashira… But… I think something is missing…"  
  
Aoshi didn't react.  
  
"And I… thought that perhaps… perhaps you would like to…"  
  
Misao saw a hint of reaction in Aoshi's distant gaze. She was shaping well.  
  
She gathered her courage.  
  
"Perhaps you would like to take the title back, until I'll be able to cope with it at least. I know you're a very good okashira, far better than I am. Don't you think that would be great ?"  
  
Aoshi stiffened. His look tightened. He clenched his teeth.  
  
When he turned his dark eyes towards Misao, his face was so tensed and unfathomable that she shivered.  
  
And then he spoke, his voice cold like death. Sharp like a blade.  
  
"Can't you stop bothering me with your babbling for a while ? Do you think I care about the childish concerns of a… kid who wants to play the okashira ?"  
  
………..  
  
As soon as the words escaped his lips, Aoshi knew all the pain he was causing to Misao. If he had only could, he would have caught them back, erased them, cut them in a thousand of fragments with his swords.  
  
He would have done anything, if only he could melt away the deseparate sadness in Misao's eyes.  
  
But it was too late. Everything that could have existed between them had been broken. A single sentence had destroyed the complicity, the mutual care and trust, the peace of their quiet relationship.  
  
And, worst of all, a single sentence that he didn't think at all.  
  
Misao wasn't able to understand all the sufferings he had endured, all the pain he had felt, and all the loneliness he couldn't share. This was not a matter of age, but of experience. She couldn't know how her request was painful to him. And she still didn't understand, glaring at him in confusion.  
  
Aoshi had acted by self-protection, by fear of the horrible memories that would shoot up in his mind. The burden of his friends' death still lay heavy on his conscience, and Misao had unwillingly revived the open wound in his heart.  
  
And she stood here, a few steps away, staring at him, her blue eyes filled with bitter tears, shaking her head in utter disbelief.  
  
He wanted to wrap her in his embrace, to comfort her, to repair for the sorrow he was causing. But he knew that he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough. Weakened by his own shame and despair, all he could do was staring at her in return and praying for her to see the genuine sorry look in his eyes.  
  
I'm sorry. You're so pure, so innocent. I wanted to preserve your peace and quietness, but all I can do is to destroy it. I'm sorry.  
  
He saw her clenching her teeth behind her trembling lips, in order to contain her tears.  
  
Then suddenly, she let out a hurt cry, knocked into him and ran as fast as she could, as far away from him as it was possible.  
  
Aoshi didn't try to run after her. He streched out his hand and unwillingly brushed her cheek as she hit him in her wild course. The soft touch of her warm skin made his heart wrench with deep sadness. 


	3. Chapter 3

Shadows  
  
…………..  
  
Chapter 3 : In the bloody rain  
  
…………..  
  
Misao ran as fast as she only could, unaware of the bitter tears streaking her face and blinding her.  
  
Childish. So that was what she was to him : childish. A child. A mere child.  
  
She wanted to scream, let go the despair in a last cry of painful agony.  
  
But she kept running, fast, fast, away from him and his cold heart. She didn't even feel her legs begging a rest.  
  
Suddenly, she fell. Her foot tripped over a stone, and before she could react, she collapsed. Her chin hit the ground, hard. A taste of fresh blood surged in her mouth, and the sharp pain of her injured knees and hands made her feel so weak that she didn't even try to get up.  
  
Misao curled up in a ball, kneeling on the ground, pulling her knees to her chin. The tears were running through her face, and in the silence of her loneliness, she heard herself sobbing loudly.  
  
She hated him. She hated him for being so ruthless, for regarding her as a brat. And over everything, she hated his scornful eyes and their cold, implacable look. Not even a hint of understanding. Just his usual detached indifference. She hated him ! Why did her heart wrench so painfully ? She hated him ! But it still hurt so much… She would have ripped her own heart out of her chest if she had only could, just so that the suffering could weaken. Why the heck did she feel as if her heart was going to explode ? Why did he harm her like that ?  
  
A cold wind brought her back to consciousness. The heavy warmth of the morning had changed in stormy rain clouds heaped up in a dark grey sky. Considering the luminosity, Misao had stayed prostrate during hours. She wipped the tears from her moist cheeks with a trembling hand. What had she planned to do again ? Oh yes. Go to the Yaminobu's headquarters and kick his ass to their damn leader… But it was out of the question now. It was time to come back in the Aioya. She knew she couldn't mislead Okina about her pain, and she feared she might have to face Aoshi at the diner, but she was not in order to sleep in the open.  
  
Misao gathered all her strenght of mind and body in order to get up. Her limbs felt heavier than ever. Her head over all. She made a face as she tried to outstrech her legs, her muscles stiffed by staying in the same position for so long, and the wounds on her knees opening up again. Damn, her whole body was so tired… Every inch of it refused to move, to coordinate with the other body parts.  
  
She felt like a little doll, a dislocated puppet that someone would have let fall on the floor. Broken. Dead.  
  
But just as she managed to stand up, something hard was hurled against her back, and hit her so violently that she couldn't help crying in pain and surprize. She fell again, tears coming back to her eyes.  
  
An unknown, scathing voice rose from somewhere in her back.  
  
"Is that all what the Oniwabanshuu are able to do ? What a pity… Stand up, Oniwabanshuu bitch !!"  
  
Before Misao's distraught senses could even notice it, a tall young man was standing in front of her. With a frightening slowness, he caught her by the top of her shirt and lifted her up, until her loose head was at the level of his.  
  
She opened her tearful eyes, hardly aware of what happened to her injured body. But her mind was rushing in bewildered and incoherent thoughts. She glanced at the man's face, not even conscious enough to glare at him. Her frantic mind wasn't coherent enough to understand or react, but scanned his face with the painful precision of madness. She etched in her memory the sharp eyes, the straight nose, and the nervous expression of a strange pleasure in seeing her suffering.  
  
Misao saw her death in those eyes.  
  
"Who… who are you…" she managed to articulate.  
  
The look in the young man's eyes became harder, filled with anger and disappointment.  
  
"So you won't guess, little girl ?"  
  
He brought her closer, until his mouth brushed against her ear.  
  
"This'll be a secret between you and me, little girl.", he murmured under his breath."I am Inoue, the leader of the Yaminobu, Oniwabanshuu bitch."  
  
Misao shivered. In all her life, she had never seen such a hatred in anyone's eyes. Never apart from one time. In Aoshi's eyes, once. Just once.  
  
At the thought of Aoshi, her heart wrenched. He had already warned her about his feelings, and she had wanted to hang on her own hopes. She hadn't believe it could be true, when he told her that he didn't want to see her again. And now…  
  
But her painful musings were abruptly interrupted by a violent slap on her cheek. She let out a shriek of suffering, as her eyes snapped open, bright of tears, the pupil dilated.  
  
The man grinned coldly with a hint of amusement.  
  
Misao caught her breath, waiting for the next blow. A punch thrown in her lower abdomen. Her eyes tightly closed, tears running on her face, she had to gather all her last strengths to control a scream. No way she was going to make him the favor of screaming.  
  
Kicks followed punchs, on her face, in her back, in her stomach. The heart pounding wildly, she was taking the shocks with a hard determination of remaining silent, while bitting her lower lip till the blood came.  
  
And suddenly she realized that she didn't want to resist. She was not in order to fight back, so it would be easier if her death came soon. And so she wouldn't have to assume Aoshi's disgusts about her, she thought bitterly.  
  
Her manhandled body stopped reacting to the blows and shocks that came from everywhere. A mist with strench of blood invaded her mind, numbing her senses until the extrem limit of the fainting fit.  
  
A mere sound managed to reach her brain.  
  
The sound of drawing a sword.  
  
Misao knew that her last hour had come. And in a way, that didn't affect her. The faster she would die, the better it would be.  
  
Nevertheless, during a time that seemed to Misao an eternity, the fatal stab didn't come.  
  
Instead of that, she felt the man dropping her. The fall started very slowly in her dizzy mind, then speeded up, and she hit the ground with frightening speed. She moanned with aching pain.  
  
But she had recovered part of her abilities, and she heard Inoue's mocking voice, speaking with ironical thoughtlessness.  
  
"Welcome among us, Shinomori Aoshi."  
  
……..  
  
Kill.  
  
  
  
Kill.  
  
  
  
Kill.  
  
  
  
One only word resounded in Aoshi's mind.  
  
Kill.  
  
Whoever wound Misao, whoever touch her would die.  
  
His icy blue-grey eyes were shining with metallics gleams just like his drawn kodachi, and staring at Inoue with a threatening glare. His well- trained mind scanned the neighbourhood ; he sensed three fighting ki hidden in the trees on his sides, and Inoue.  
  
Four enemies. Wouldn't be easy, if the guys were great fighters, but he wouldn't let them hurt Misao longer.  
  
Aoshi braced himself, focusing on the man in front of him. He knew that if he failed, he wouldn't have any opportunity of striking back, but the mere view of Misao, who lay almost unconscious on the ground, was enough to make him utterly angry, and to give him an incredible boldness.  
  
Suddenly, a fiendish glow of madness lighted up his icy eyes, and with a groan of fury, he jumped towards the young man, his kodachi crossed ahead of him.  
  
As the blade met a bone with a sinister crack, everything merged in a whirpool of blackness, cries and blood.  
  
…  
  
Kill.  
  
…  
  
Kill.  
  
…  
  
Kill.  
  
When Aoshi regained consciousness, he shivered.  
  
He was standing right in the middle of a sea of blood, the sticky liquid still streaming on his swords, and dropping on the ground like crimson tears.  
  
A lightning smashed the dark sky which burst open, and it began raining, at first isolated droplets drowning in the pool of blood, then big, hard drops hammering his skin.  
  
On their fresh contact, the last doubts and uncertainties melted away in Aoshi's mind. He had killed, once more. He had lost every kind of self- control in order to throw himself in the madness of a fight. Four figures appeared in his head, coming back from an almost forgotten part of his heart, and his old fears surfaced again. He was falling again, but this time it was in such a deep abyss that he guessed he wouldn't be able to climb back.  
  
Aoshi looked up, searching frantically for a mark, anything he could hang on to.  
  
And his gaze fell on her.  
  
She was standing a few steps away, her long, ebony hair partly loose from their usual braid surrounding her delicate features, and her torn tunic let see the white, soft skin of her breast. She was beautiful.  
  
And her bright blue eyes remained focused on his, accusing.  
  
Turn your eyes away. Turn them. Turn those damn eyes of yours !  
  
But her eyes were still there. On the verge of tears. Incredibly cold.  
  
He tried to ignore the way his insides twisted when he saw the bloodtrail on her cheek. A drop of water slid along her face, dissolving it in a red tear. Another followed. Trembling with sorrow and anger, her whole body stained with blood dragged along by the hard drops falling from the sky, Misao seemed a fallen angel lost in the bloody rain. 


	4. Chapter 4

Shadows  
  
………  
  
Chapter 4 : Closed doors  
  
………  
  
Contained my feelings for too long,  
  
Forcing her darkiest song to unfold  
  
And pushing her into self-destruction.  
  
Muse – Showbiz  
  
………  
  
Useless.  
  
Lying down on her futon, Misao's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above her. After three days spent at staring at the ceiling, she knew every detail, every imperfection on the white expanse. She knew the shadows, at any hour of the day. And she was still lying there, refusing to wake up.  
  
Because anyway, she felt useless.  
  
I was dying to hear a single word of love… of care… for a single heartbeat… I was dying for you, Aoshi… And I'm still… It feels so empty in me… My heart's such an emptiness now… So empty that it will crush and fall apart…  
  
The first day, Okina had desperatly tried to convince her to open the door, which remained locked, as Misao remained deaf to his anguished questions. Then, the old man seemed to have decided that she needed to spend some time alone, and noone troubled her loneliness, except Okon who, three time a day, came to put a tray with some food in front of her door. But most of the time, Misao didn't even touch her meals.  
  
He doesn't want to tell you a single word of care. Because he doesn't care. I had warned you about this.  
  
I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think at all.  
  
The first day, too, she had heard Aoshi asking to Okina to move in another room. After that episode, her bitterness had only increased. Not only didn't he love her, and did he consider her as a child, but he didn't want to sleep in an adjacent room to hers any more.  
  
Why would he ? It's not like if he needed you, as you need him.  
  
She had lost everything : her enthusiasm, her joy, the mischievous way she was smiling when the sun warmed her face, her will... She was no longer the lifeful young woman that the others used to know. She was a doll without heart, without soul, deserted, in lack of someone who could give her a new life. But nobody would come.  
  
For her now, day and night were exactly the same routine. Torturing herself with her own pain, she cried during hours until she fell asleep, exhausted and dizzy. As days passed, she looked more and more slovenly; she was wearing the same yukata, and her braid was undone, long dull tresses sadly falling across her face.  
  
But everything was useless. Life had no attraction left.  
  
Sunshines were now darkshines. Whatever could have made her happy once, was only irritating now. And when her look aimlessly fell on her kunai, abandoned in the opposite corner of her room, she couldn't help having a lump in her throat. This was so explicitly the sign of her defeat ; not even able to fight by herself, not even able to defend herself, forever depending on Aoshi's protection… Once more, he had been the one who had fight for saving her poor, defenceless life, that life that she should have pitylessly put an end to, rather than giving him a so evident proof of his superiority, of her own weakness…  
  
And he's right.  
  
Of course he was right. She was a child who needed protection, nothing more. Reckless and idealistic. And pure. So pure.  
  
Was she a child because her hands were not covered with blood ?, her mind screamed helplessly. Was she a child because she wanted to believe in her former dreams ? Was she a child because she trusted the ones she loved ? Had she to burn her purity of mind and ideas on the altar of insensivity, to be an adult in Aoshi's mind ?  
  
………  
  
Three days. Aoshi was sure he had counted well. Misao had not left her room for three days. This began being really worrying.  
  
Leaning against the wall, he tried to gather his thoughts. The problem with Misao, far from solving naturally as he had thought it would, was worsening frighteningly.  
  
Since that horrible day for both of them, he had convinced himself that everything would get back to normal. When he had seen Misao, closed lips, hurt look in her eyes, overtaking him to walk straight in direction of the Aoiya, not even saying a word, he had thought that she would forget him.  
  
But now she was locked in her room, and gave no sign of life. Just, from time to time, one could hear her smothered sobs through the closed door.  
  
It was time for him to gather his courage and face her. If he didn't, she would let herself die. What he wanted to tell her, he didn't know yet, but he would do whatever he could to save her from self-destruction.  
  
………  
  
The shoji was white, uniformly white, just like his mind.  
  
He had never payed attention to the strange and tormented shadows which played, ran, danced on the walls of his former room. Until this night.  
  
For the first time, he was gazing at them, surprized and fascinated. Soft courbs, pale figures and dark patterns composed and declined the beauty of that odd monochrome ballet. Here a gnarled branch casted its streched outline with unknown grace, then met the corner and broke clean off to go on on the white shoji.  
  
And behind the shoji, there was Misao.  
  
Misao, so delicate, so sweet, so innocent. For the first time, he was paying attention to the world around him, not only to his deepiest concerns. And he started understanding what Misao had tried to show him, with her natural kindness and freedom of mind, that indifference to criticism which made her look so rashly independant, and so deeply, strangely beautiful.  
  
She had wanted him to linger on little things, looking so trivial that he pushed them away. But shadows are trivial, if you don't stare at them carefully enough. A small star, gleaming with fleeting brightness, seems so insignificant… And Aoshi had never tried to see the beauty in a passing shadow, or a single star. In his mind, beauty was something tangible, constant. Like a poem or a picture.  
  
Even so, he had understand something tonight, when bracing himself in order to face Misao.  
  
Beauty was in every Misao's smile.  
  
Beauty was in her slightest move, like the soft dance of shadows against the wall.  
  
And Misao stood behind the closed shoji.  
  
He was not sure that she was aware of his presence. Something moved in the room, a slight rustling in the silence of the night – was it the wind ?  
  
He got up, and noiselessly walked towards the door. The shoji was still white, with the same pools of darkness, and he was about to knock when a strangled sob rang in his ears.  
  
Misao…  
  
Aoshi's heart wrenched, odd and painful sensation in his chest.  
  
He agreed to answer to her sorrow, to repair where he failed, but never, never should she cry for him anymore.  
  
But as he was making that promise, a trembling voice raised through the slim paper-made hurdle between them. So tired, so weak, failing with shaky hysteria… but incredibly strong and aching…  
  
"Go out, Aoshi… I don't want to see you… I don't want you here…"  
  
He closed his eyes, trying desperately to swallow, but a lump came to his throat and all he could do was to try to brace himself. Even in his deepiest nightmares, never had he thought that one day, Misao would push him back. And now, she was asking him to leave, leave her alone with her pain.  
  
He should have open the shoji and face her, wrap her in his arms and tell her all the love he had for her. He should have opened his heart, because he would never have any other opportunity to do so, to tell her the truth, to rectify his mistakes…  
  
But Misao had told him to go, so he would. At least, he could respect her decision. Her life could be so beautiful, if she only tried to forget about the past…  
  
I don't want to interfere, Misao… I just thought that… that you could understand… How much I loved you, how much I wanted you to be happy… But I'm not the kind of man who could give you what you're asking for… You're asking for love, for care, for someone who could make you laugh and smile, and not cry…  
  
Yet Misao hadn't understand. And now there was a single solution. Leave behind.  
  
A strange, metallic noise abruptly interrupted his musings. With a pang of fear, Aoshi heared the cold whistling of a kunai hurled against the shoji. The light knife pierced the rice paper, breaking the shadows with his silver gleam, and flung through the air to get hammered in the wall behind Aoshi.  
  
Aoshi glanced in utter disbelief at the weapon embed in the partition wall, still vibrating, then to the torn paper of the shoji. He swallowed. Though there was no sound troubling the heavy silence, he knew that Misao was weeping. And though there was no tear in his eyes, his heart was crying too. It was the first time that Misao was attacking him with such a violence, not for a training fight but in order to wound him. And more than the physical strike, what was hurting him the most was the symbolic meaning of the blow. Rejection.  
  
The kunai behind him, thrown with too little strengh to be driven in, came out of the wall and fell on the ground with a metallic ringing.  
  
He clenched his teeth, hard, and leaved silently.  
  
…………  
  
Okina was walking along the walls of the empty corridor. He made a face, his back aching with rheumatisms. Yes, he was definitely old now. An old and tired man.  
  
This had been a while, since he had retired. The era had changed, the world and his own priorities too. One of them had been to keep Misao away from trouble, give her an happy youngth. A kind of balance, between her natural outbursts of energy and her pain of loosing her Aoshi-sama. He hadn't seen her grown, becoming a young woman he could be proud of, but now when he looked at her, all he saw was the beautiful gaze of hope in her incredibly blue eyes. This hadn't changed. Misao, the strong-minded girl, the mischievous tomboy… and the frail woman that Aoshi had ruthlessly broken.  
  
He swallowed with pain when he heard Misao's smothered sobs coming from above his head. What happened with Aoshi that faithful day, Okina didn't know. All he knew was that Misao wouldn't get out unharmed of that confrontation.  
  
He ought not to accuse Aoshi ; the younger man had already done so much for Misao, this was more than fairness to allow him to push her back, if he didn't want to tie his life to hers in any way. But… As Misao's guardian, he was upset by the way the events were developping. With his tactless behavior, Aoshi had presumably hurt Misao more deeply than necessary.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Okina… I have something to tell you."  
  
Okina stiffened. He had been taken off-guard. Old and tired, he thought.  
  
"Let's go to my office, Aoshi."  
  
His voice was scaringly weak, oppressed by the years gone by and the freaking possibility of what Aoshi had to tell him. The old man opened the door, let Aoshi enter the room. He scanned his unreadable face, and caught the sharp and unfathomable look in his eyes.  
  
The young man sat down on his heels. Some kind of reluctance was visible on his tensed features.  
  
But he deeply caught his breath, and spoke as quietly as if he was speaking about the weather.  
  
"Okina… I think it's not well for Misao to remain locked in her room."  
  
What for an observation, Okina thought ironically. Though he didn't want to blame Aoshi, he wondered bitterly if the young man was only here to come out with sophisms. When Misao was dying because of his indifference, Aoshi's feigned carelessness seemed to the old man quite indecent.  
  
"If her health concerns you, you should better go to her room and try to reason with her. Your behavior seems not exactly… helpful.", he answered sharply.  
  
Aoshi stiffened, a shiver ran through his tense shoulders.  
  
"For her own good, it would be better if she and I had no… contact from now on."  
  
Shuddering at the thought of what Aoshi might imply, Okina turned deathly pale, then regain his own self-control.  
  
"That means… ?"  
  
Aoshi's face contracted, he frowned until his eyes narrowed.  
  
"That means I'm leaving tonight." 


	5. Chapter 5

Shadows  
  
…………  
  
Chapter 5 : Breaking the silence  
  
…………  
  
Aoshi, deep in his thoughts, was gazing absent-mindedly at the travelling bag, practical and easy to carry on the shoulder, lying on his futon. The bag was half empty, but Aoshi didn't know what to take else than what he had already put in.  
  
For the third time at least, he looked around him, scrutinizing the functional room which had been his office during years. He would not miss the room – that kind of room would be found in every house, every place he would get in – but he would miss… the atmosphere. The memories.  
  
Yes, wherever he would go, never would he find such a room. In this place was drifting the smell of old books, of steel, and… the sweet scent of Misao.  
  
He would miss his books, too. His gaze wandered on the set of shelves, carefully lined up. This meant months, years of patient collection and reading, and though he wouldn't admitt it, abandonning everything here was painful to him. His calloused fingers, so much more like a fighter's ones than a scholar's, brushed against the bindings, then abruptly clenched in a fist. There was no time for regrets, he decided.  
  
His glance came back to his package. The two kodachi, hidden in their sheath, were lying right nearby, threateningly cold and lifeless.  
  
Aoshi sighed. He should have gone since hours. But he couldn't help thinking he was forgetting something.  
  
As he bent over to catch his bag, something caught his gaze. On his former desk, a sheet of paper was slightly juting out in the middle af a neat pile of files. He had not payed attention to it before, but now in the sober decor, the detail was quite obvious.  
  
He grabbed the paper, and in answer his heart wrenched for an aching heartbeat. He had totally forgotten the existence of the drawing he was holding in his shaking hand.  
  
Misao. A drawing of Misao and him, young. It was only a mere sketch, but the drawer had so perfectly caught Misao's features that she seemed alive. During a short while, he thought that maybe she was going to smile.  
  
It was so… so far, so old, so deeply burried in the back of his mind that he had nearly forgotten how much he was happy in those times. To becoming the strongest, he had allowed himself to leave aside the past, and in the meanwhile, leave aside the truth. He loved Misao, far much more than what he admitted. Far much more than a sister. Far much more than he would ever realize it.  
  
And he was there, leaning again the wall and staring at the paper with painful insistence, unable to remove his look from Misao's genuine smile. How harsh it was, to remember the past, their lost happiness and the rip in his heart, growing bigger now when he thought of what could never be found again : trust, joy, heedless attittude… and Misao's fiery look, that he would never see again.  
  
All his behavior was stupid. He shook his head in irritation ; there was no sense in mourning about what he had definitely lost.  
  
No time for regrets, he had decided.  
  
His face colder than ever, he stared at his fist clenching on the drawing, the paper crumpling and writhing as in pain in his tensed hand, and finally falling on the ground with a dull sound.  
  
On the paper, Misao's smile was distorted in a sad grimace. She was crying.  
  
…………  
  
The moon had never been so white, Misao could have bet it. Febrile, her eyes gleaming with anxiety, she was convinced that something was wrong. Even though it was full, the moon shouldn't be so white.  
  
She was sitting on the edge of the window, hoping that the cloudy lightness of the night would soothe her pain, that its sky, shudded with stars, would flood her sorrow. But she couldn't help gazing at the moon, and its view, its sickly paleness was filling her with some dreadful madness.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Closing her eyes, Misao tried to recover her serenity, slowly breathing in and out. Nothing was wrong. This was a mere fantasy of her exhausted mind, delirious for want of sleep. She felt something moist on her cheek, and brushed it with a shaking hand. A tear.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp pain burst in her chest, resounding in her whole body like a wave of fire. She tried to scream, but no sound managed to leave her lips. It hurt as if her heart was going to explode, torning her chest, aching in her limbs and letting her breathless and tearful. She burried her face in her hand, curling up in a ball, trying to conceal her pain by crying noiselessly in her lap.  
  
As abruptly as it had come, the pain lessened and disappeared. She breathed in deeply, in lack of air, wide-eyed like in a crisis of dementia.  
  
Definitely, something was wrong.  
  
There was something she had to prevent, something that she was the only one who could prevent from.  
  
Misao jumped on her feet, stumbled, and fell on the tatami. She moanned. God, she hadn't thought she was so weakened. But it was not amazing… When had she eaten for the last time ? Not today, anyway, and not the day before, as far as she could remember. She hadn't cared about it.  
  
Clinging on the edge of the window, her phalanges turning white because of the effort she had to put in, she managed to get up. She felt dizzy, everything was blurred around her. She had to wait for a moment until the walls stopped to turn all around, and her sight became clearer. Before her legs would give way beneath her own weight, she opened the door and hurtled down the stairs.  
  
…………  
  
Aoshi turned over, in order to see the numb building for the last time. It felt strange to think that he would never see it again ; he had seen it being built, livening up when, to be a cover for the Oniwabanshuu, the Aoiya had become an inn, and then resouding with Misao's first cries.  
  
It felt strange, how much each of his memories was linked to Misao.  
  
The all building was quiet. No sound, no move. Everyone was asleep. Things were probably better like that. Nobody would hear him leaving.  
  
There would be no goodbye, no sighs, no tears.  
  
When Misao was leaving the Aoiya, even for a few days, everyone gathered together to tell her goodbye, wish her to have a great journey, he thought with a pang of bitterness. If Misao was leaving now, Okon would heap recommandations on her, and Omasu would hold back bowlfuls of tears.  
  
But tonight, there was noone to wish him a great journey or even say him goodbye. Noone would shed tears on his departure.  
  
And that's all that you deserve. Too many tears have already been shedded for you. You're only getting what you sowed. Indifference.  
  
He shivered to the bone. So many times, he had boasted about being able to leave everything behind without any regrets, and now, as he saw the dark windows of all those peoples that he had learnt to like, leaving became a rip. But this was for Misao's own good. Without his fiendish presence surrounding her, she could regain health and happiness.  
  
He bowed slightly. This was his way to say them goodbye, and thank them for everything.  
  
Aoshi knew that Misao wouldn't understand, when she would wake up, why he had gone. Maybe, at the moment, would it hurt her, maybe she would cry ; but after that, she would take a new start. Everything was going to be alright for her from now on.  
  
The large door closing Okina's garden would only have been a few steps further if he had cut off by the lawn, but for the last time he decided to follow the raked path of gravel. The narrow path was getting around an old, immense cherry tree. In the cold wind of the night, its white blossoms flew like stars on the black-blue sky, danced, drew arabesques to end their flight somewhere in the ethereal haze.  
  
Aoshi's gaze followed with nostalgia one of the delicate petals, falling and whirling up to two bare feet…  
  
Aoshi stiffened, his heart froze in recognition of those two small, so feminine feet. What the hell was she doing here ? She should have been sleeping in her room ! What for an explanation was he going to give ?  
  
There was nothing to explain, he thought. Brace yourself.  
  
Having immediately regained his composure, he glanced at her, with that unbearably cold look of his, that he himself hated so much.  
  
How pale she is. This has to be the moonlight. I want to believe it's because of the moonlight.  
  
But she really was pale, and not only because of the milky lightness throwing polls of shadows on her cheeks and around her eyes. Misao had never looked so thin, so fragile, so near to break. And she stood here, staring at him in answer, with those deep blue eyes wider than ever by pain and need for slumber.  
  
"Where are you going ?"  
  
The words had escaped her pale, trembling lips in a breath, as if spoken by someone else. Even her voice sounded weak, empty, like done in with all the worry and the sorrow of life. He hadn't understand that her despair had so deeply wreak havoc on her.  
  
"You should be in your bed, Misao."  
  
Unbearable voice… Why in the hell did it sound so irritated, so distant…  
  
But anger flashed in her eyes, and she started shouting with an incredible strength for her state of exhaustion.  
  
"Where are you going, Aoshi ?"  
  
He took a sted towards her, raising his own voice to make her be quiet.  
  
"Stop with it, Misao ! You're going to wake up all the neighbourhood !"  
  
But his remark wasn't necessary. Misao had caught a glimpse of the bag he was carrying on his shoulder, and had instantaneously frozen, wide-eyed and tearful.  
  
"You're leaving, she stammered. You're leaving, Aoshi."  
  
She had breathed the word in a toneless voice, her lips shaking, drained of blood, as she was understanding what was going on. The truth, so obvious, hit her head on. Aoshi was leaving, leaving her alone. Her hand clenched in a fist, and she raised accusing eyes on his steady face. Gritting her teeth, she laughed.  
  
"So that's the only way out you found, Aoshi ? Of course, you didn't changed in eight years."  
  
The bitterness, her own painful sarcasm were tearing her chest open and riping her heart ; and she couldn't help but felt her eyes moistening. Don't show him your weakness, she thought. Don't cry.  
  
So she went on shouting, taking a deep breath.  
  
"True, it's the second time you're escaping that way, by night, remember ? Don't you remember, Aoshi ? Why are you running away ? You're fleeing from me, true ?"  
  
In prey to rage and confusion, she threw a punch in Aoshi's chest. He shivered, didn't react. Frustration overwhelming her, she hurled herself against him with a shriek, and hit, hard, knocking disorderly his chest with her fists, hammering blindly blows on him, but still helplessly, as he took the shocks with a frightening indifference.  
  
What sould I do to make you react ? she screamed soundlessly, while tears began running on her cheeks.  
  
"You're running away, as always, Aoshi ! And you're leaving me… This will be the second time you'll leave me alone, Aoshi… The second time you'll abandon me… But this time I'm tired and bored of running after you ! I'm weary of being the one who's looking for you !"  
  
Aoshi's face remained unruffled, and he let her drum against his chest. Better that anger bursted out once and for all ; but his own rage and frustration were raising, increasing until it itched.  
  
What was she thinking ? That everything was so simple ? That he wanted to let her alone ? Did she think that he had asked her for running after him, he mused bitterly ? Was she imagining that it was easy for him to leave the only life that he had known, on a sudden impulse ? Moreover, for her own good ? She was only thinking to her own happiness, what was going on with his ? Who did she think she was to talk to him that way ?  
  
But in a last blow desesperately thrown on his rib cage, she stopped pummeling. Aoshi glanced at her, intending to find her fierce look focused on him, and accusing. But even so, her head remained turned at the gound, her eyes hidden by her undone hair, shining in the darkness, her hands clenched in the black fabric of his shirt, shaking.  
  
And suddenly, in a slight gesture of giving up, she moved closer, and leaned her forehead against his chest, clinging on him with the foolish hope of holding him back by her side.  
  
During a second, they stood here, unable to speak. Aoshi's mind was rushing into wild thoughts, feeling her so close, so intolerably close, and so soft… so frail, sobbing and shedding tears on his heart… But he was not the one who could answer to her sorrow, he knew that already…  
  
As if his heart had spoken to Misao with his steady beat, she stiffened and, her voice cracking and filled with bitter tears of defeat, she whispered for the last time :  
  
"Where are you going, Aoshi ?"  
  
Like a rope tensed for a too long time, something broke in his chest, just where Misao's damp cheek was leaning on. His principes, his determination to leave… All his futile reasons fell apart like a tower of cards, merely erected to hide to himself the truth : he hadn't wanted her good by leaving, but he indeed had fled. Fled the odd feelings she aroused in him.  
  
Where are you going, Aoshi ?  
  
Don't leave her.  
  
Where are you going…  
  
With a smothered shout, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tightly in his embrace, clenchind his fists in the soft folds of her yukata, and whispered beneath his breath his answer.  
  
"Nowhere, Misao… Nowhere." 


	6. Ending

Shadows

…………

Epilogue : Unintended

…………

__

You could be my unintended 

Choice to live my life extended,

You could be the one I'll always love.

You could be the one who listens

To my deepest inquisitions,

You could be the one I've always loved.

Muse – Unintended.

…………

What had happened ? Misao was not sure, neither did Aoshi. But it was a distressing, warm sensation, both troubling and feeling oddly right. None of them dare - or did even want - to move, closely embraced ; Misao, tighened right down, let slowly herself go in Aoshi's arm, fieryly wrapping her as if she was going to disappear in a breath.

Aoshi's cheek leaned on Misao's ebony hair, his mild breathing sending up some little strands which teased his nose gently. Softly, he released his grip around her shoulders, just lovingly holding her to soothe her pain. But as the deadly anguish, which had allowed her to wake up and had stubbornly given her the strengh of wandering in the garden, was melting away, Misao saw the world spinning crazily around her, and then all faded in a black whirl.

"Misao, no !"

Aoshi held back against his heart the lifeless body slipping between his arms. His eyes filled with dread, perfectly readable for once, he pushed away the black locks of hair covering her feverish forehead, trying to bring back to consciousness her exhausted, so scaringly petite form - but Misao remained inert.

His heart beating wildly, he slid a strong arm under her legs, and the other came to support her loosened back, excruciatingly worried by her painful breathing and absence of any reaction. Misao's head fell back on his shoulder, and she moanned as she unconsciously felt lifted up and crushed against Aoshi's chest.

__

Misao please… please don't…

He run as fast as he only could, carrying tightly her frail frame in his arms, merely allowing himself a break at the door of the Aoiya to get his breath back. It was the moment Misao choose to reopen her eyes ; she tried to breath in deeply but her breath wheezed, and she groanned in pain, curling up against Aoshi's heart. Her febrile eyes snapped open and she sighed in defeat.

"Misao, are you all right ?", Aoshi said in a tone where pierced a thrill of terror.

"Yes… Don't worry, Aoshi-sama… I can walk by myself…", she replied bravely.

But she was weak, so weak…

"I have my doubts.", Aoshi answered in an even voice.

Reassured as he saw her surrender and give herself up to the soothing warmth of his protective arms, he opened the front door and climbed the stairs to reach Misao's bedroom. How sweet and pleasant it was, he thought, holding her that way, protecting her from whatever could happen to her, and feeling her wholly, totally 'his'.

Misao burried her head against his shoulder, so as to make sure that he indeed was here with her, that he hadn't left her. How many times had she prayed any God who would listen so that Aoshi would hold her like this… But they already came in her room, and she knew that the dream soon ended.

Aoshi carried the slim body to the futon and, with unusual gentleness, stretched Misao out on the blanket - and gave a hint of a smile when she gasped as he brushed a light kiss on her forehead. Then he got up and wlaked towards the shoji, noticing with a twinge of regret the rip in the paper where Misao had thrown a kunai at him.

"Try to rest, Misao. You're exhausted."

But Misao had sat up straight, starring at him as her voice betrayed panic.

"Aoshi-sama, no, please, stay with me ! …"

He turned over to look at her, his eyes peaceful and quiet.

"I said : rest. I'm coming back very soon."

Still a bit worried but trusting her Aoshi-sama, Misao nodded ans slipped bitween the blankets, pulling them to her chin and coiling up in their familiar heat. As he was sure that she wouldn't try to get up - and she probably wouldn't manage to - Aoshi went out and closed the door.

As the shoji slid close, Misao started turning over and over in her bed, although her whole tired body begged a deserved rest. Where had gone Aoshi ? He had told he was coming back soon, he couldn't have lain, could he ? Her weakened mind constructed unimaginable hypothesis, frenzied and phantasmagorical patterns… She was looking frantically for something she could hold on to… How long had he leaved ? A minute ? Ten ? An hour ?

"Are you sure you're all right, Misao ?"

She gasped and jumped, as her eyes abruptly opened to meet Aoshi's concerned gaze. Her heart was beating wildly but its disordely running was nearly stopped dead as Aoshi sat by her side, putting down near to him a tray where some tea and a bowl of rice laid. Gripping two chopsticks, he caught a small ball of rice and introduced it in Misao's mouth. The girl managed not to chocke, swallowed and grinded her teeth, both annoyed and distressed.

"Aoshi, I'm not a child anymore… You don't need to feed me."

Aoshi froze.

"I know, Misao."

A lump coming to her throat, Misao turned over and pulled the blanket down over her head to hide her tear-filled eyes.

"So please leave me alone. I wanna sleep now.", she murmured in a toneless voice.

"Not before you eat something.", he retorted firmly.

Yet under the blanket, Misao didn't move, so Aoshi grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled at it, finding it withstanding for a while until Misao let it go of. But his look turned to lack of understanding when he faced her features soaked with tears as she tried to conceal them by burrying her face in her hands. Softly, carefully, he stroked her hair, waiting for her to cry to her heart's content until she calmed down.

"Misao, please… tell me what hurts you so much…"

Tring to breath in deeply to smother her sobs, Misao managed to stammer.

"If… If I'm n-not a child, and if I'm n-not a… a w-woman… s-so what I am for you?"

Aoshi's eyes clouded over. Of course, that question had to come from one day to the next, but he had expected it would come later. He wasn't prepared to answer. And nor was he prepared to her reaction. Gazing at something he was the only one to guess, far away behind Misao, he tried to choose his words in order to express his thoughts.

"Misao… You are like… like a star. You know, it's not easy for a warrior to find his way of life. You are a star, a bright star on a dark sky, shining to show me the way of redemption. You're the star shining to guide me away from my path soiled with blood."

Misao's tears had stopped running down her cheeks, and she was gazing at him, hanging upon his every word. He smiled softly and smoothed a long fallen curl behind her ear, going on with his explanation.

"For the moment you seem far away from me, you're still inaccessible. But I'll try, Misao, I'll try to break all those walls between us. You'll have to be patient. I know it's not easy for you, you've never been patient."

As she was about to retort a scathing reply, he made her be quiet by a look.

"It's not easy for me too. Redemption is a long and hard journey. But as long as I'll have your brightness to guide me, I'll know I'm not lost. Will you wait for me to untangle all those meanderings ?"

He sighed. More or less, he had managed to set out what his heart kept hidden so well. But tears flowed again on Misao's face, and she mumbled in a disoriented voice.

"Of course I will, Aoshi… I'll wait for you all along my life if you need me to…"

And on a sudden impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. Taken off-guard, Aoshi stopped himself falling by a narrow margin, and wrapped gently his own arms around her, not to tight, just not to push her back. He knew they weren't ready for something else.

Releasing her grip, Misao burried her nose in his neck and muttered at his ear in a breath.

"I'll wait for you to come back, and I'll try to be a lucky star so as to help you to find quickly your way on that way splashed with blood that I would call your life…"

She felt his hands stroking her back and smiled warmly against his shoulder. 

This had not been the promise of undying love that she had wished. This was not even a promise. Maybe Aoshi would never find his way out. But she had hope, and she knew now that she was hope for someone as well. For someone, she was the light of redemption, the glow of hope and forgiveness. And this someone was Aoshi.

…………

THE END

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Author's notes : Wheeeeeee I finished it !! The end was totally WAFFY, wasn't it ? I didn't want to fall in syrupy squeamishness, but I think I did… Oh my God… At least I hope this wasn't ridiculous. I had a hard time to end it. I just wanted to write a angsty story with an half-happy half-sad ending (actually it was more happy than sad…). Please review minna-san and tell me ! 

About the songs : Muse is one of my favourite groups. I just love whatever they do. I enjoy the music and the lyrics are wonderful.


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